


Classified || Bucky Barnes

by HaleyPancakes98



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Civil War (Marvel), F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleyPancakes98/pseuds/HaleyPancakes98
Summary: "How is it that you go about defining good and evil?"
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

January 6th, 2002 (age 16)

Forest Lake High School

Marina rubbed her palms nervously against one another, relishing in the warmth blossoming between them. A propped open door on the opposite end of the stuffy gym leaked freezing air into the building. It swept across the basketball court and chilled her like a spear of ice driven through her spine. She shivered and bounced to her feet, glancing down at her black and pink wrestling shoes when their laces tapped softly against her ankles. She hated the color: pink. It was what it stood for that she liked, femininity in an otherwise "boy's sport."

Her head snapped up when the scoreboard's deafening buzzer rang out, signaling the end of the thirty minute break. A puff of air left her cheeks and she hesitated a moment before starting toward her father shuffling anxiously at the corner of the navy blue mat. Without peeking from the paper-strewn clipboard in his hands, he plucked the headgear from where it sat draped over his shoulder, tossing it blindly to her. Marina stepped aside to catch it before slipping it over her hairnet.

Finally, he looked up and sucked in a deep breath. The timber wolf mascot on his ball cap briefly caught her gaze which soon flicked to his hand as he reached out and pulled the velcro tight beneath her chin, nearly cutting off her breath entirely. He leaned sideways toward her as she bounced back and forth between her feet to stay warm. The nub of his pencil zigged around the page between them as he explained that she'd been bumped up a weight class. The plan had been for her to stay at 125 -- which she was already a bit light for to begin with -- and collect a three point void given that the opposing team had no one at that weight. Instead, her father, and coach, tossed her carelessly into the next weight bracket in hopes of coming out with a six point win instead. Her worried eyes leapt to the scoreboard to see the other team with a three point lead. She was the last weight class. Their last chance.

A part of her was admittedly surprised her father had willingly thrown her into a fight. The only reason he let her join the team to begin with was to fill a weight class. He never actually expected her to do much aside from walk out and have her hand raised when the other team had no one for her to wrestle.

Marina rolled her shoulders as she stepped into the center of the mat, only now realizing just how small the painted white out-of-bounds circle truly was. She shook the thought from her mind and looked to where the other team was huddled around their teammate chanting his name encouragingly. Her face screwed up in annoyance at their prideful, beaming smiles. It wasn't until they disbanded that she felt her stomach plummet to the floor. As their teammate strode out onto the mat, each of their fallacious smiles melted away to reveal the worry etched into their features. She blinked a few times when the boy stopped before her, his breaths heavy as though the walk over had drained him.

He was a frail, lanky boy, a freshman she assumed by his youthful face. One of his legs was twisted slightly and he walked with a limp that shifted his entire frame sideways with each step. It suddenly made sense as to why her father bumped her up to face him. He knew the boy didn't stand a chance.

The ref stepped into place between them and motioned for the teens to shake hands. Marina lowered her stance and sucked in a shallow breath as she extended her arm. His hand was small in her own, surprising her further. He was shaking. Meeting his bright eyes flooded her with guilt, the excitement there burning bright like a bonfire.

She'd hardly even recognized the ref's piercing whistle, the boy shifting his weight awkwardly from hip to hip. Marina reluctantly circled him as she pondered her options. His eyes were glued to her ever moving legs, the gears turning so loudly in his head she thought for a moment she heard them grinding against one another. His own spindly legs were right there in her reach for an effortless takedown, but she resisted, surprising even herself when she purposely pushed her left foot toward him. He took the opportunity he'd been granted, lunging forward and sweeping her to the floor with a double leg takedown.

Her father's shout of disbelief seemed to be the only noise to register in her ears aside from her own thumping heart. _Base up!_ Her mind protested her lack of action with possible solutions. _Get your hips underneath you!_ Any effort to stay on her stomach had been feigned and when she was finally flipped over, her coach cried out once more.

"Get up!" He demanded, his pencil rolling away from his scuffed shoes when he slammed the clipboard angrily to the gym floor. His stance was frightening, crouched slightly and tipped forward as if to be nearer to her. His thick brows were drawn up in anger. "Don't you dare."

Marina huffed and squeezed her eyes shut when both her shoulder blades met the cool floor, a ringing settling in her ears when the ref slammed his hand unnecessarily hard against the mat. The world rushed back to her all at once while she scraped herself off the ground. The crowd cheered excitedly, a few disappointed headshakes sprinkled throughout. The boy's teammates bounded into the air, their arms propelling skyward at the upset victory. The coach across the mat found her eyes and granted her with a warm smile while he watched his wrestler's hand be raised by the ref. The boy's face housed a look of shock and astonishment as he turned back to Marina and shook her hand again before hurrying back to his celebrating team.

She cringed and propped one hand on her hip, the other rubbing her forehead. Everything in her protested turning to face her own teammates, but after a moment's hesitation, she did. Most of them smiled faintly and nodded, patting each other on the back. They understood. Her father, on the other hand, whose scrunched face had brightened to a flaming red, didn't. The pink wrestling shoes felt frozen in place in the center of the mat when she met his scowl.

Had that been what she wanted when she let the boy win? The thought swam through her racing mind and screamed in her ears. Had she done it to give him the win, or to upset her father?

Her blue eyes widened when he marched straight onto the mat. Her feet instinctively shuffled backward, but he snapped out to catch her bicep in his hand. Marina winced, consciously keeping herself from peeling away his clammy fingers as he dragged her out of the gym and into an empty hallway. Sending her forward with a shove, he folded his arms disapprovingly over his chest. The bricks cooled her sweat slick back as she settled against them, carefully rubbing the red handprint left on her arm.

"What was that?" He growled, pinching together the space between them until he was merely a few inches from her face.

Marina thought over her next words carefully, eventually settling on: "I lost," before falling silent and shifting her gaze to the tiles beneath her untied wrestling shoes. "Sorry," she mumbled quietly. Pain pricked at her braided hair when he snatched the headgear and hairnet from her head in one swoop, tossing them to the floor. A deepening frown pulled at her lips when his eyes only darkened with anger.

"You didn't lose," He spat, "You quit." Marina's fingers balled themselves into fists and she bit her lip to keep from snapping, further adding to his frustration. "...and your team paid for it." Her father jabbed his finger roughly into her chest, leaving her ribs sore in its wake. She searched his twisted face for her dad. This was her coach; cold and relentlessly cruel. She wanted her dad; the man who was meant to tell her it was okay that she lost, whose sole purpose was to make her feel safe.

"What was I supposed to do?" The faintest metallic taste swirled on her tongue.

"I'm only gonna tell you this once, Marina. So you'd better listen," He paused and his jaw ticked, "In the real world, nobody cares when you're at a disadvantage." Her expression softened when it clicked that he wasn't talking about her at all, but rather the lanky boy who walked with a limp.

"I didn't-" Pain erupted in her cheek and her fingers flew to where his palm had made contact with her face. Tears pricked her wide eyes and she tried again to distance herself from the snarling man only to be met with the painted bricks against her back. It was the first time he'd ever hit her. A silence fell between them while he dared her to interrupt again.

"If you have a shot," he continued through gritted teeth, "you take it. No matter what. You win."

Marina flinched when a door burst open on the opposite end of the hallway and the opposing team spilled through. Something like a low growl sounded from her father's chest and he looked to her once more before spinning around and leaving her standing alone in the stuffy hallway. A few boys lead the pack, skipping down the hall toward her. For a moment she wondered if they even realized she was there, tears brimming her eyes and a red welt swelling on her cheek. Invisible was better, she decided. Her knees buckled and she slowly sunk to the floor, ignoring the grains of sand that stuck to her palms.

Guilt and frustration crashed over her, a colossal weight sinking deep in her chest and constricting her lungs. She tucked her knees to her chest and allowed her head to tip back against the wall, not paying any mind to the chill that scurried down her spine.

In the years that followed, each time she stepped out onto the mat with her worn pink shoes, the crippling weight of potential loss weighed heavily on her shoulders. It wasn't something she'd ever been too upset about before; her losses. She would take it in stride and shake her opponent's hand with a defeated shrug. But that was it. Now, she feared loss. It paced in the back of her mind like her anxious father as he watched from the sidelines. She imagined the unfaltering anger and disappointment in his incessant glare would haunt her for the rest of her days.

_Take your shot._

At even the smallest ounce of quickly fleeting opportunity, she took her shot. Every time.

_Shoot._

And most of the time, she won.

~~~

November 22nd, 2004

Forest Lake High School

With no plans for the future and senior year well underway, Marina strolled carelessly through the job fair that the school put on every year. Most paper-littered booths were in representation of local restaurants and businesses. A few were for factory or engineering jobs in the area. Nothing caught her eye aside from the refreshments table on the opposite end of the bustling gymnasium. Her hands sunk into the deep pocket of her hoodie while her head twisted between displays in an attempt to look like she was being productive.

She had to figure something out; a college to apply to and scholarships to back her entry. Not to mention what she wanted to do. The thought of graduating was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. But there was so much uncertainty for her future. Nothing interested her. She wasn't good at anything, and wasn't the type to have grown up with the dream of becoming something so mediocre as a doctor.

So, she sauntered across the wooden basketball court with booths of information surrounding her on all sides and fellow pupils chatting amongst themselves. Her head cocked curiously aside at the table tucked away in one of the distant corners, only a few people daring to stray so far from the bulk of students to investigate. She started over, finally retracting her hands from the warmth of her pocket. A cardboard cutout of a man in camo attire stood saluting beside the surprisingly cluttered table. A soldier, she'd concluded from the US Army tag on the breast of his uniform.

Her gaze flicked between the different pamphlets sprawled out before her in recognition of each branch of the military. She quirked a brow and bit her lip, hesitantly reaching out to pluck a small packet from the Marines section. The possibility had never crossed her mind. Her own brother had ventured down the same path, and unfortunately, never made it back. Yet, she'd never thought about it for herself. A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she fumbled with the idea in her head. She flipped open to the first page.

She read through every laminated page, surprised at her own interest, before letting out a huff. Marina slid the pamphlet into the pocket of her hoodie and backed a single step away from the table. Her gaze switched to the cut out and she narrowed her eyes at the saluting stranger. He stood a few inches taller than herself, his chest nearly thrust forward with how straight his back was forced.

_If you have a shot, you take it._

Marina scoffed at the thought and spun on her heel, shaking her head amusedly.

_What a stupid Idea._


	2. Chapter 2

June 26th, 2010

Afghanistan

Marina squinted through the stirring dust, watching as the helicopter's shadow disappeared into the gleaming light of the sun. A huff of air pushed past her lips and she adjusted the thick vest secured over her torso. Its bulky, suffocating build restricted her movements more than she cared to admit, but she worked around it regardless. A bead of sweat dripped down her face and she wiped it away with the sleeve of her camouflage shirt. Only after did she realize the action likely smeared dirt across her cheek.

"Get your bags, ladies!" Her heart jumped when the sergeant called out from behind.

His voice was rough like gravel in her ears despite being muffled by the helmet strapped to her head. The men around her scooped up the heavy bags without hesitation, brushing past her as if she wasn't there at all. Marina waited patiently for the troops to disband before kneeling down and taking a bag of her own, slinging it over her aching shoulder. The strand of hair that had escaped her tight bun danced with her settling breath. She could practically feel the ominous presence behind her and cringed before spinning on her heel.

"Is there a problem, Private?" Sergeant Mathers quizzed, his straight brow hardening his already cold expression.

"No, sir." Marina scolded her slightly wavering tone. His dense glare remained glued on her for a few moments more. Her weight shifted between her feet while she forced her gaze straight ahead.

"Didn't think so." He finally spun around and stalked off to yell at someone else for one insignificant matter or another.

Marina shook her head lightly as if to free herself from a daze. She cleared her throat and adjusted the heavy bag over her shoulders. It was a few short minutes later that Sergeant Mathers neared once more and she found herself standing straighter as he passed. The dozen men around her all forced themselves taller, each of them the perfect embodiment of a soldier. She could only imagine what she looked like standing amongst them.

"Move out!"

They started off at the order; deep into the desert to scope ahead. They had one simple job, sweep the area before the convoy comes through. Of all the similar missions they'd been tasked with, they only ever had to clear one hideout of five or six men.

Her fingers clenched around her rifle with each time the harsh wind pelted sand against her burning cheeks. The exhausted squadron walked for what felt like an eternity with a single break that couldn't have lasted more than five minutes. The scorching sun bore down on them all, sagging their shoulders and slowing their feet while they trudged on.

Marina lurched to a stop and her eyes widened when Sergeant Mathers threw a fist into the air. He fell to a kneeling position and the rest of his troops blindly followed suit. Her grip tightened on the loaded weapon in her grasp as she pulled it closer to her shoulder. She unknowingly held her breath as she anxiously searched the sand stretching for miles before them. A single dark spot sat frozen in the sea of dusty yellow. A confused frown sunk her brow. _It's a trap_ , was her immediate thought. A shaky breath pushed past her lips and she lifted the scope to her right eye, squinting the other shut. Her frown only deepened at the zoomed in version of the scene.

A man stood motionless atop a pile of gray bricks. Blood sprinkled his face and thick, cinched brow. His gradually wandering eyes were dull and somber; not emotionless, but rather overwhelmed. He stumbled down from the bricks and started slowly through the ruins of what used to be a city of stone.

"Bailey, what have we got?" Mathers whispered as he fumbled for his binoculars.

"Just one. I can't tell if he's armed."

"Take the shot." He breathed coolly. Marina's stomach sunk to her shoes and she peeled her eyes away from the scope to look at her superior. Her lips parted a few times, struggling to force any words from her tongue.

"Sir," She protested quietly. "What if he's a civilian?"

Sergeant Mathers's expression instantly fell into a familiar glare. His jaw twitched with frustration and disbelief that she dared question his authority. Instinctively, she shrunk beneath his fury.

They'd walked into traps before, but this one seemed different. The stranger seemed lodged in a state of confusion and denial. Mathers's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I said take the shot, Private. That's an order."

When she hesitated a second time, he reached out and snatched the rifle from her hands. He tucked it into his shoulder and lifted the barrel in one swift motion. Each of the men -- including Marina -- jumped when the deafening crack of a bullet rang out. Marina gasped and her limbs franticly hauled her away from the sergeant who sprawled across the sand, blood spilling from a fresh hole between his eyes. She hardly noticed the second shot soon after the first, dropping the distant stranger where he stood among the ruins.

"Ambush!" A shout from beside her pierced the drumming of her heart in her ears as she scrambled for cover. On queue, gunfire flooded the air all around them. Marina threw herself behind a boulder and hastily fixed the helmet that had fallen over her eyes.

Her breaths came faster now to race the bullets that soared past her head, slowly chipping pieces away from the stone she sat pressed against. She hissed when a few shards sliced her cheeks. She tried desperately to rally her frenzied thoughts. If this was a training exercise, what would she need to do? Her shaking hands itched for a rifle perched between them.

Marina slipped the pistol from her belt, flinching when another bullet whizzed by. She plucked the full ammunition clip from her pocketed cargo pants. The satisfying click when it popped into place in the end of the gun was music to her ringing ears.

Taking a moment to collect herself and assess the situation, she concluded that the enemies were head on from the opposite side of the boulder based on the projection of their fire. A few of the bangs brought no bullet toward her meaning some were aimed elsewhere. That meant she wasn't the last of her team left standing. She tuned into the pattern of shots directed her way.

_One, two, three, four, pause._

_One, two, three, four, pause._

_One_ \- Marina squared her tense shoulders and shifted her stance. _Two_ \- she sucked in a breath through her nose and pushed it past her lips. _Three_ \- the pistol's safety switched off with a click. _Four_ \- Her finger brushed the trigger.

She peered around the boulder at the pause, aiming straight ahead to where a line of three armed men knelt a ways away. With a loud pop, the pistol jumped in her hands and the middle enemy collapsed to the sand. Trying to ignore the lifeless forms of her team laying across the expanse, she spun back behind cover and huffed, squeezing her eyes shut. Fear swept over her like a tidal wave of concrete, knocking the wind from her tightening chest.

There was a shout and then a loud thud that sounded to her left. She coughed away the thick of dust that settled in her lungs. Her eyes flicked open and squinted through the stinging sand. Pressed into the ground was an oblong metal cylinder. It was dark in color with patches of worn metal and rust littering it's surface as if it had been in stored in poor conditions for ages. "Stark Industries" was written proudly in bold lettering across the label.

Marina's heart leapt to her throat at the realization that crashed over her. The raining gunfire instantly ceased and she assumed any enemy forces had been quick to flee. She thought Stark Industries stopped selling weaponry years ago, and yet, here she was, face to face with one of his bombs. The low beeping grew louder each time it sounded. She scrambled away as fast as possible, only for the heart-wrenching click to beat her to her feet.

An explosion sent her barreling to the dirt, her head knocking into the chipped boulder. It took a while for the black crowding her spinning vision to retreat enough to make out the world around her. She opted to ignore the ringing that erupted in her ears, the warmth of blood streaking her cheeks. For a while, the numbness of shock shielded her from the sheer force of the blast as she laid motionless.

The dust around her had yet to settle, leaving her engulfed a cloud of fading brown that stung her eyes and felt gritty between her teeth. All at once, the numb vanished in one single retreating wave, leaving behind nothing but pain and fear. It felt as though her every bone had been crushed, each nerve in her body set alight in flames. She gasped and fought to her scarlet sprinkled hands and knees. Her pain-ridden features contorted as her mind raced, the ringing having grown deafening. It blared in her bleeding ears, driving ripples of pain bouncing around her skull. Slowly, she brought her trembling fingers to the buckle of her helmet and clicked it open. Her blood-slicked hands barely grabbed ahold of the chipped headwear, popping it off and letting it slip from her grasp.

Marina blinked a few times, confusion washing over her as thin streaks of blue danced in her vision, twisting and winding themselves around the flickering white spots. She nearly screamed when a burning sensation pricked the tips of her fingers, climbing up her arms until it threaded itself between her ribs.

Marina coughed, crying out at the pain it sent plowing through her trembling frame. A sob pushed past her iron-tinted lips while she gathered herself, forcing her legs forward to where one of her fellow soldiers lay motionless amongst the rubble. He was clearly dead. Blood spilled from an open gash across the back of his head. His skin was eerily pale, and he laid frighteningly still where the explosion had tossed him.

Through the ever thickening silence came the crunching of footsteps, each throbbing in Marina's ears like a blow to the temple. She gasped again, collapsing back to the ground before rolling onto her back. Her eyes locked onto the calm blue of the sky, a stark contrast to the situation at hand. It was a few seconds more before a face popped into view, only the dark brown eyes visible through the black cloth draped over their head. He glanced over his shoulder and waved someone over before turning back to the helpless woman and kneeling beside her.

Marina's eyes snapped open and she gasped when a bucket of freezing water splashed her face, seeping into her nose and burning her throat. A cough tore through her chest and she cringed at the throbbing pain it sent bouncing around her skull. Her face scrunched up, noticing the stiff feeling of dried blood running down the side of her face. Four or five men stood before her in a dark room, one blinding light shining directly into her eyes. The men shouted at her, though she didn't understand a word they were saying.

Her trembling hands were tied tightly behind her back, pain erupting throughout her body when she so much as stirred. One of the men stepped forward, only his angry eyes visible through the black scarf stretched over his face. He continued yelling in Dari, his foreign voice rough in her bleeding ears. Marina's chin sagged to her chest and he smashed a fist into her face. Anger twitched through his expression. She could see it in his eyes as they narrowed, collecting wrinkles in the corners.

She sniffled as blood trickled from her nose, her head falling backward. Her gaze met the crumbling ceiling. The man took a single step backward and chuckled amusedly. His head bobbed and he latched onto her mess of brown hair, craning her neck to look at him. He met her eyes and cocked his head aside before calmly repeating what he had been shouting earlier.

Marina remained silent.

~~~

June 27th, 2010

Afghanistan

Marina tuned into the shouting voices that echoed through the building's weathered walls. She scooted farther from the open doorway that had been haunting her since the moment she arrived. It was the only accessible escape from what she could see, but she would have to go through the main room to actually leave. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying at the pain that pulsed endlessly in her head. Her filthy hands were bound tightly together with a thick strand of rope that rubbed her wrists raw.

A dark figure appeared in the doorway, more features etching themselves into his face as the man drew nearer. The assault rifle almost slipped from his shoulder when he reached forward and hoisted her to her feet. A bag was dropped over her head to obscure her vision.

She couldn't remember the last time she had water, resulting in a bought of dehydration so intense it nearly collapsed her legs from beneath her. Her head felt so light and so sickeningly dizzy all at once. An insatiable hunger gnawed at her stomach despite the overwhelming urge to vomit that hung in her throat.

Her breath hitched with each step as she willed her feet to carry her along to wherever she was being lead. Marina fell backward when a hand shoved her shoulder. A hard chair rose up to meet her -- metal, she assumed, by the cold that seeped through her tattered pants. The sack gradually filled with her every warm breath as she closed her eyes, listening to the commotion around her.

There was the sound of shuffling footsteps beside her, and the sickening screech of metal against rock to accompany it. Countless different voices filled the tension-thick air, not a single one of them speaking an English word. Silence washed over the world until she noticed the quick, shallow breaths to her immediate left.

Marina flinched when the brown sack was pulled away and a bright light blinded her. She blinked a time or two to adjust. The man looming before her plucked a matching bag from someone seated next to her. Her expression softened at the sight of the beaten man. Streaks of fallen tears washed away stripes of blood and grime from his cheeks. There was a desperate and pleading fear swirling in his green eyes. Her gaze briefly flicked to the small patch of an American Flag stitched into the camo vest strapped around his chest, 'US ARMY' sewn just beneath it.

Dirt sprinkled his buzzed blond hair and his eyes wandered the room in a concoction of emotion that lifted his brow and dropped his jaw. Marina looked back to the man pacing back and forth in the center of the room. He stood tall, arms folded behind his back in an oddly calm fashion. A black cloth stretched over his face to disguise his features. A camera sat propped in the corner of the room. He finally slowed to a stop in front of the green-eyed soldier and she could almost feel him stiffen.

"Where the trucks are going?" The stranger's words were laced with a thick accent. Marina glanced between them oddly.

"Trucks?" The soldier repeated questioningly. His face scrunched up and he blinked a few times in an attempt to silence his racing thoughts. "Trucks- I- the convoy?" He shook his head lightly and peered into his lap. "I don't know." Marina grimaced at his verbal back-peddling.

The man's eyes smiled eerily through the gap in the cloth. He waited a moment more, scratched his nose, and sniffled before leaving to converse with another man lurking in the corner. It seemed he'd gotten enough of an answer. Marina trained her wary gaze on the pair across the room. The soldier to her left tugged helplessly against his restraints and a bit more panic seeped into his rigid posture when they didn't budge.

Her full attention was back on the faceless stranger in an instant when his movement danced in her peripheral. He shrugged to himself, plucking a knife from the face of an old wooden table. She sunk deeper into her chair when he strolled back over to them, inspecting the blade with a squished brow. Her pounding heart skidded to an abrupt halt and her blood ran cold when he nonchalantly lowered the sharp edge to the side of her neck. He sucked in a deep breath that rustled the scarf over his face.

"You care to give it a try?" The man hummed. Marina sat paralyzed by fear, the glinting metal barely catching her eye.

She remained silent.

The dark-clad man huffed and slowly dragged the knife sideways, tearing an open wound through her skin. The familiar feel of warm blood dripped slowly down her neck before collecting at her bruised collar bone. She winced and pressed her lips together, struggling to hide any pain that undoubtedly crept into her features.

"One more time." He feigned confusion. "I didn't catch that."

Nothing but silence followed and he chuckled amusedly. The green-eyed soldier jumped when the blade was plunged downward into her shoulder. She couldn't help the cry that pushed past her lips, the piercing pain swimming down her side and numbing her fingers.

Marina's eyes slammed shut when it felt like her head had been tossed into a blender on high, the unexpected pain sending shockwaves of agony through her every inch. Her injured shoulder was merely an antagonizing ache in comparison. Searing fire flooded her veins and climbed the length of her arms; she was sure she'd been set alight.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped desperately, not paying any mind to the faceless stranger who stumbled backward in horror. The ropes snapped from around her raw wrists sending her tumbling to the dirt floor. Each breath was suffocatingly deep and resonated in the heaving cage of her ribs. She slowly reached up to pluck the knife from her shoulder, shaking hands fumbling for the handle. Her fingers tightened around its grip and she ground her teeth as she dragged it from her flesh. It clattered to the ground and she fought to her feet as a tear slipped from her burning eyes.

Time seemed to slow, stretching a second to an eternity while she held her hands out before her. She watched in shock and confusion as sapphire swirls engulfed her trembling fingers. Another wave of pain crashed over her and her legs buckled. A blinding light swept over the room just as her knees met the ground.

Marina fell forward, barely catching herself with her hands. Her chest heaved while she stared down at the light dwindling from her fingers. A horrifying silence took hold of the world as she slowly tipped her head up to look through pain-squinted eyes at the disheveled room around her. Chairs and tables were thrown about, a camera laid shattered in a distant corner. The people laying all throughout the room remained motionless, causing her racing heart to skip. The soldier who once sat at her side had been tossed across the room, his wide eyes housing a sickeningly distant look as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

A tear slipped from her cheek as Marina forced herself again to her feet. Her gaze fell to the angry man laying propped against the opposite crumbling wall, head tipped to his shoulder. Her still burning eyes widened in fear as she looked down to her hands.

They were her hands and nothing more.

She stumbled backward and a sob fell from her lips as she slowly backed away from the wreckage. The crushing weight of guilt slipped over her to accompany the other countless, nameless emotions stirring about in her mind.

Marina finally stepped out into the scorching sun and another warm tear rolled down her cut-sprinkled cheeks. A cloud of dust blew across the sprawling desert sands, stinging her face. She drew in a shaky breath and glanced down at her hands once more before peeking at the old stone building over her shoulder. She forced her aching legs to push herself forward into the barren landscape ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

May 21st, 2011

Forest Lake, Minnesota

The Winter Soldier let his gaze wander the block, gray eyes skipping between darkened houses and dim lamp posts. The street was empty and the darkness of night concealed him from onlookers. He scanned the area for potential interferences and escape routes once more before slinking through the shadows toward a quaint yellow house.

He'd been monitoring the targets for just over two weeks, burning their daily schedules and routines into his mind. They went to the store once a week, usually on Friday after they both finished work - always by five o' clock. Both were out of the house each morning by seven to their respective jobs. They didn't get visitors, and were always in bed by nine. There wasn't a single security camera on the property. With full faith in their friendly neighborhood, the door was always left unlocked.

The metal arm whirred where it hung at his side, his muscles bunching in preparation as he reached for the silver door nob.

_No fingerprints, use the left hand._

He twisted the handle and gave it a push. His black combat boots padded silently along the wooden floor into the living room where the faintest scent of a previously burning candle drifted through the air.

His empty gaze caught on the mantel mounted above the stone fireplace, his feet slowing to a stop beside an padded wooden rocking chair. A framed photo sat propped at each of the farthest edges of the small shelf.

_Targets?_

One was the bust of a boy who looked to be in his mid twenties. The soldier's stare briefly faltered at the military uniform that stretched across his chest, a matching hat atop his shaved head. The other image was of a girl, likely in her teens. Her head was caught in the trap of an older man's arm while he rubbed his knuckles into her brown hair. She beamed, lips parted with laughter as she struggled in his hold.

_Irrelevant_ , the soldier scolded himself as he carried on.

He strode up the stairs, avoiding a few that he could tell would creak beneath his weight by the way the wood had warped with age. The second story was but a hallway with four doors spilling pale moonlight into the darkness. Straight ahead was the bathroom, that much he could see through the wide open door. On the left were two empty rooms. He didn't have to look to know they were empty with the way the moonlight shone straight through the expanse, not catching a single object to cast a shadow into the hall.

The Winter Soldier turned into the bedroom on the right and found his fingers tightening around the knife strapped to his thigh. The king bed was draped in a mess of gray spreads, beneath which were two lumps of people.

_Two targets, non combatant._

He stepped around to the far side and sunk his blade into the center of the man's chest. He didn't flinch when the target's eyes snapped open and he fought to draw in a deep breath in surprise, panicked gaze falling to his fresh wound. The Soldier removed his knife and started toward the opposite side as the second person stirred. She sprung up and cried out in fear when her husband drew his final breath, wild eyes turning to the nearing soldier. She was frightened by the emptiness staring back.

"Robbie!" She sobbed, glancing back at the motionless form in bed beside her. The Winter Soldier reached her side just as she'd tried to scramble away. His left arm shot out and his fingers wrapped tightly around her throat. He squeezed. The woman gasped and choked and clawed at him, but he stared blankly ahead until she fell limp in his grasp. He held on a few seconds more to be safe before letting her sink back into the mattress.

~~~

May 27th, 2011

Forest Lake, Minnesota

Marina let out a shallow breath as she slid a blue t-shirt onto a plastic hanger and moved to put it in the closet. Her feet suddenly froze to the wooden floorboards and her stomach plummeted to her shoes. She stared blankly at the black dress tucked away in the corner. She hadn't gotten around to washing it yet, as every glance made her feel sick. A chill shook her frame.

Just two days prior, the dress had been drenched in rain where she stood in the middle of the cemetery, watery gaze glued to the grown over grave of her brother's as she had so many times before. This time was different in that there were two freshly covered graves just beside it. The Bushels of colorful flowers nearly drowned out the names etched into her parents' stones. She couldn't remember how long she stood there in silence by her lonesome, but it had to have been an hour or so before a family friend finally came back to check on her.

She was awoken the morning following the incident to a knock at her front door. Standing there slumped with exhaustion in the doorway wearing nothing but pajamas and old slippers was when she found out her parents had been killed. They hadn't gone in their sleep or tragically wrecked the car; they were murdered in cold blood. A stab wound pierced her father's heart and the life had been choked out of her mother. She reflected on the sick feeling that rose from the pit of her stomach and nearly spilled across the officer's shoes.

The authorities were still looking into it, though they were inclined to rule it a simple break-in and leave it an unfortunate, fleeting memory. It just didn't add up, though. Nothing was missing from the house; the only thing the intruder left with were their lives. Regardless of what they wanted, her parents were gone. She was alone.

Marina nearly jumped when a knock sounded on the door. She reluctantly pried her feet from the floor and forced herself forward, dragging a hand through the mess of her hair. Fear kept her breaths short while she wondered who else could she possibly have lost. Her hand hesitated over the silver doorknob, a sickening sense of familiarity tensing her muscles. Clenching her fingers, she sucked in a deep breath and pulled the door open in one swift motion, barely managing a smile for the stranger standing before her. His expression remained serious as his gaze immediately shifted to meet her eyes. She couldn't help but take in his neat outward appearance. His face was cleanly shaven, and his black suit had been pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight.

"Marina Bailey?"

Marina stiffened, but nodded slowly. The stranger folded his arms behind his back and bowed his head, stepping aside to reveal an older man. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between them oddly. Gray streaks on either side of the man's head faded into the metallic blond of his hair. A few scattered wrinkles pinched his face as a smile spread across his lips. He stood much more relaxed than the younger man, his hands buried in the pockets of his dark gray suit.

"Ah." He grinned, plucking a hand from his pocket to reach for a handshake. She hesitated, but ultimately returned the gesture. "Marina Bailey," he repeated. "My name is Alexander Pierce. I'm here on behalf of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division." She nodded, silently telling him to continue. She hardly noticed as her brows cinched together in confusion. He reached inside the jacket of his suit and retrieved a badge, the letters S.H.I.E.L.D. in bold above the silver logo of a bird. "There are a few things we need to discuss." She rose a questioning brow, an effort to conceal the panic that crept over her. She watched as his eyes flicked just past her, almost like he was ensuring the apartment was otherwise empty. "Do you mind if I come inside?"

Of course she did. But he seemed professional enough and she couldn't make out any weapons on his person. Marina huffed and folded her arms across her chest. She peeked once more at the stiffly-postured man still lingering behind Pierce. With the smallest of nods, she stepped aside and backed further into the kitchen. The black-suited man followed Pierce inside the apartment before quickly shutting the door behind him. He positioned himself in the doorway and clasped his hands together in front of him as he stared straight ahead. Marina eyed him oddly as she moved casually to stand beside the wooden block of knives atop the counter. Pierce allowed his eyes to wander the tidy apartment, the smile on his lips never once faltering. Marina leaned back against the counter and watched him expectantly when he finally turned to face her.

"Right," he sang. "Let's get straight to business." Pierce reached inside the jacket of his suit to retrieve a small device that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. He set it carefully on the island in the center of the kitchen, pressing a button on the front. Marina flinched when a holographic screen flitted into the space between them.

"What is this about?" She finally asked, watching the obviously fake smile fade from Pierce's lips. Her stomach sunk.

"Afghanistan, Private Bailey." He didn't bother sparing a glance in her direction until the screen lit up with an image. A lump lodged itself in her throat and her heart lurched, stopping dead in its tracks. Her eyes widened in the slightest and flicked to the hologram as the video began to play. "These videos were taken with the intent to be used for ransom," he explained, skipping through a few clips of her exhausted form. "It's lucky we got our hands on them, because this one is particularly interesting."

The video was grainy and unfocused, odd to see displayed on such advanced technology. Marina couldn't help but watch on despite already knowing what would happen. She cringed when the angry, faceless man drove a blade into the woman's shoulder. Into _her_ shoulder. The beaten Marina on film cried out in pain and squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't long before they snapped open again to reveal that they had changed to an electric blue. Marina's heart raced as she watched herself, unable to help the fear that coursed through her veins. It terrified her.

The video continued on even as blue filled her veins, creeping up her arms. She fought to her feet and crashed to her knees, a wave of light washing over the entirety of the room before the screen finally went black. Marina remained frozen in place, not daring to meet Pierce's prying gaze.

"How did you-"

"It would really be a shame if this fell into the wrong hands," he interrupted, seemingly unfazed by what he'd just watched. There was a look of unshakable confidence in his frighteningly empty expression. Pierce clicked off the small device and tucked it away into his pocket before letting out a breath. "How do you think people would feel if they found out about this?" His tone was almost mocking. He tilted his head aside in perfectly crafted sympathy. "About you?" Marina's breath caught in her throat and she met his eyes, trying to gauge just what exactly he was getting at.

"They won't," she replied, rubbing her shaking hands up and down her arms. A smile rose to his lips as he stared deep into her eyes. It was the first real smile she'd seen from the man. Fear crept through her body and she was sure the panic was more than evident in her faltering stance. Her breathing hastened while she thought deeper into it. What _would_ they think? She winced slightly when a burning sparked in her eyes, dragging the pain back into her skull where it stirred around with her thoughts.

"Are you sure about that?" He taunted, raising a challenging brow. His grin only grew as he watched the realization dawn upon her and she dipped her face toward the floor, shaking her head to free her mind. "I think we can help each other." She remained silent even through his pause. "I take care of your little... problem; and in return, you come work for me." He lifted his chin to look down on her.

Marina winced again and peeked down at her hands to see blue rising up her fingers. More panic settled into her bones and her eyes widened. He watched with a smile as her walls crumbled and her tense shoulders sunk.

"Deal," she breathed.

"Welcome to HYDRA."


	4. Chapter 4

Only one day after Alexander Pierce's unannounced arrival and extended invitation, a few of his men returned to whisk Marina away so that their doctors could get a look at her. There, she was subjected to more poking, prodding, and testing than she would ever have thought possible. It had to be done in order to fix her; they couldn't find a solution without knowing what the issue was to begin with. But that didn't make it any less miserable. It was odd, being studied so intently that just about everything that made her... _her_ was out on display for strangers.

No line was left uncrossed in their overly thorough examination. She'd been through just about every scan in the medical books. Her arms were sore from being repeatedly jabbed with needles. Bruises littered her skin from where they rammed tools against her joints to test her reflexes. Eyesight and hearing weren't something she thought would be relevant to their studies, but they tested her on both senses regardless. A day or two into her stay they drew a bone marrow sample from her hip, which still ached with her every move.

Pierce's doctors and scientists scanned over her bloodwork and cells restlessly day in and day out. She could always pinpoint the moment they stumbled across an abnormality by their furrowed brows and perplexed expressions. But no conclusive results were ever passed on to her.

In addition to physical examination, they prodded her memory for more information about the incident itself. A bit of it was still fuzzy when she reflected back, but Marina relayed anything she could remember. They pressed on about seemingly irrelevant details like the weather, the time, even what she'd eaten in the week preceding the "effect triggering event."

She told them about the sparsely rusted bomb casing with _Stark Industries_ plastered across its label. Pierce got a few of his men to look deeper into Stark weaponry. Tony Stark himself put an end to the company's weapon manufacturing division after finding out his business partner had been selling to terrorist organizations. But there wasn't much that could be done about the weapons bought while the division was still operating. It made sense as to how someone could have had the bomb in their arsenal. They'd just been waiting to use it.

What Pierce's scientists feared was that it had been tampered with while tucked away in storage. They didn't directly voice their suspicions, but Marina had been studying them as well. She noted their almost frantic search for some explanation, time and time again coming back to the modification of added radiation for the intent of maximum casualties when the bomb went off. From what she'd gathered, she shouldn't be alive.

So when they finally sat her down after a few weeks of study, she found her leg bouncing anxiously as she chewed her bottom lip. Their words flew straight over her throbbing head while they compared visuals of her bloodwork to that of "a normal person." The images looked different, that much was obvious, but she didn't have the slightest idea of what she was looking for. One of the two doctors finally sighed and drummed his fingers along the edge of the iPad at the sight of her confusion.

"Can you give me the Spark Notes?" Marina huffed, leaning forward in her seat to brace herself.

Any shred of positivity she'd scrounged up instantly faded when they glanced at one another to share a disconcerting look. She quickly learned that HYDRA wasn't light-hearted enough of an audience to appreciate humor, or decency for that matter. It was something she still hadn't grown used to- the constant somber state of everyone around her. Not a single person had maintained a casual conversation with another throughout the entirety of her stay. She tipped her face toward the concrete floor and kicked her legs lightly where they hung over the edge of the gurney. Her loose, gray scrubs squeaked faintly against the plastic.

"Sorry." There was a brief pause and then the clearing of a throat.

"Simply put," One of the doctors began, "the suspected radiation produced from the blast bonded with your cells to rewrite your genetic code." His tone was almost condescending, like he was dumbing down the explanation for a child.

Marina blinked at him. "What?"

He clicked on the iPad once more and tapped the screen a few times before turning it to face her. A lump lodged itself in her throat upon seeing the blurry footage of herself. A chill shook her frame when the blinding wave of blue light abruptly cut the screen to black. She averted her eyes from her reflection.

"To keep up with the change..." He backed up the video, freezing it a few frames before she collapsed to her knees in pain. Her hands were smothered in sapphire, the same color settling in her irises. The second doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers and buried both hands in the pocket of his white coat. "You're burning through your body's natural energy reserve at an exponential rate. Now, we usually obtain this energy through some exterior substance or interaction; the food we consume and... but-" She could have sworn the ghost of an astonished smile threatened the corners of his lips.

"You're manufacturing your own constant energy." Her brow cinched in confusion. "Essentially, your body has turned itself into a self-sustainable source of biologically produced energy." He held his palms out before him as if expecting them to light up. "That's what you're seeing when you get worked up."

Marina nodded slowly, his words sinking into her mind one by one. "And this... energy-" She peered down at her own upward facing palms resting in her lap. "Is it supposed to hurt?"

The doctor let out a puff of air from his cheeks and almost rolled his eyes at the fact that she wasn't jumping for joy. Everything about his exterior conveyed annoyance as he set the iPad down on the metal table beside him. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter.

"It's not _supposed_ to be possible," he returned. She remained silent, her hard expression not giving in to his apparent excitement. "But... I suppose some discomfort is to be expected. The human body isn't mean to function that way; it's not designed for it." He shrugged simply.

"You can fix it, though?"

The doctor didn't appear enthused with the idea, and spared a glance at his partner who sunk his gaze to the floor.

"Fix it, no." Her stomach sunk with how blandly he answered. "Interfere?" His lips shrugged, a sign of uncertainty. "Maybe."

~~~

Pierce was more than happy for Marina to join his HYDRA ranks. She'd already been trained in combat; though, of course, her skills called for a bit of sharpening. She was smart enough to catch on quickly to what she was being taught and obey orders. She was a soldier.

After assigning the asset to her parents, she had no family or friends to hold her back. No one would question her sudden disappearance from society. Marina Bailey was alone, desperate, and lost. He had the only solution to the monstrous issue that had taken her hostage, and it was clear how much it terrified her. In a worst-case scenario, she would succumb to her new-found abilities and become a HYDRA weapon.

She was a ball of putty to be shaped and molded however he so pleased. And she was sitting right in the palm of his hand.

~~~

Marina traced her fingers gently over the purple dots in the crook of her elbow. She frowned in remembrance of every needle driven through her skin. Despite how much she hated it, she couldn't be mad. She was the one practically begging for the suppressants the doctors had concocted to keep the "energy" away. It left her feeling weak and tired, but she'd long since decided it was worth it. Every two or three weeks they hauled her off to the lab where she got another dose... if she'd been doing sufficient in training.

Most of the training was reminiscent of what she had already learned from her time in the military; fighting tactics and making effective use of provided weaponry, or whatever you could get your hands on in the moment. There was endurance and strength training as well, which she found to be much more difficult in her constant state of exhaustion.

There was also lots that she learned for the first time; infiltration, stealth, operation and manipulation of technology. They made it a point to burn into her mind the habit of constantly scanning her surroundings for cameras, and potential threats or witnesses. She'd quickly grown used to mentally mapping escape routes the second she entered a room. A few more people were put through the same training program, but she rarely saw them except in passing.

She often wondered what she would be doing had she not taken Pierce's offer. She would be miserable and afraid; alone without a family to return home to in trying times.

"Seven."

Marina jumped at the word that had come to replace her name. Agent seven, they called her. She assumed it was to help them keep track of the recruits. She tried to push aside the thought that perhaps HYDRA didn't want their trainees thinking they were people.

Her gaze flicked to the balcony at the far end of the room, a wall of bullet proof glass separating the observation deck from the gym. The familiar dark haired man stood on the opposite side of the thick glass, his head cocked curiously. His hands weren't visible where they were clasped behind his back. He wore dark brown cargo pants and a heavy black vest. She didn't know his name, as she wasn't allowed to address him. He spoke to her, never the other way around.

Marina blinked a few times to snap herself from the daze and shifted on her feet. The matted floor bounced slightly beneath her weight.

"Are you okay to proceed?"

She quickly nodded, admittedly surprised he had asked so kindly. Her shaking fingers clenched themselves into fists while she struggled to ignore the dull ache in her head. It had been two and a half weeks since her last suppressant. She needed to do good with whatever he was about to throw at her.

The heavy metal door behind her squealed as it flung open and she spun on her heel to see a man step into the concrete room. His eyes were empty as he glared at her, his hand tightening around the knife in his grasp. He was a bald, broad shouldered man with a pink scar that stretched across his cheek. Her stomach sunk through the floor and she took a single step away.

"Kill Agent seven," the man watching ordered flatly. Her eyes widened at the staggering realization that this wasn't a test for her, but for the man looming in the doorway. His response was a silent advancement, slowly closing the space between them.

Marina swallowed past the painful lump in her throat and fought away the urge to puke while she searched his blank gaze for any scrap of humanity. She gasped when the stranger suddenly lunged toward her, driving the blade down to her face. Her feet scrambled away and she positioned her arms defensively over her, cringing when he sliced into her arm. His expression hardened even more and he swung again, this time sweeping the knife horizontally between them. She jumped back just on time to avoid the now blood-tinted metal.

The man tossed the knife over his head, effortlessly catching it in the opposite hand before smashing his empty fist into her face. Marina stumbled backward, the world spinning around her as she shook her head lightly. The taste of iron followed the blood that trickled from her nose and settled on her parted lips.

He plowed one of his leather boots into her chest, slamming her against the concrete wall. She coughed in an effort to regain her wind, sinking to the floor. Her chest heaved and she spit aside the blood that flooded her mouth. Her fingers dug into the mat beneath her, eyes wide with confusion and anger. She could feel his presence drawing slowly nearer.

Marina's brow cinched and she scraped herself from the floor, stumbling slightly when she made it to her feet. She shifted her weight from hip to hip and sucked in a shaky breath, standing tall as he closed in. She was angry, furious that she'd given herself to HYDRA and they chose to use her as a ragdoll.

_Nobody cares when you're at a disadvantage._

He plunged the blade through the expanse toward her once more.

_Shoot._

His knife clanged against the sudden wall of transparent blue that blocked her face. He was sent flying across the room in a blinding flash of light. Marina's face contorted in pain, feeling as though her blood was boiling beneath her skin. The man collided with the far wall, his head meeting the concrete with a sickening crack.

The burning sensation pricked her eyes as she stood awash in silence, watching the brooding stranger where he lay motionless across the room. Light danced around her wrists and darted through her skin. Her jaw was clenched so hard that it ached, her curled fingers gouging into the flesh of her palms.

"Stand down, Seven!" A voice shouted through the room's speakers. The metal door flew open and a group of armed men rushed inside, all training their rifles on her. Her mind was reeling with panic, hatred, and worry as they pressed deeper into the room. She couldn't seem to push away the blue in her veins.

The less talkative of the doctors finally forced his way through the line of stone-faced soldiers. He was tall and thin, brown hair speckled with grays. His wide eyes fell to her trembling hands as he hurried toward her, plucking a syringe from his pocket and removing the plastic cap in one motion. He looked back up to her expectantly, but not daring to move any closer. His timidity made her feel sick.

A shaky breath pushed past Marina's lips and her gaze flicked from the past pin pricks on her bleeding arm to the tube of blue liquid in the doctor's fumbling fingers. Hesitantly, she straightened her arm and loosened her fingers. She pushed her wrist slowly toward him and he warily stepped up to her side. His expression flooded with both anticipation and relief when he pressed the needle into the crook of her elbow.

It felt cold in her veins and sent a shiver rippling through her frame. After a few seconds, the familiar wave of lightheadedness crashed over her and she stumbled in place. She'd always taken the suppressants sitting down and now feared she would fall over. She blinked the burning sensation from her eyes and watched the gradually dwindling blue dance their final move between her fingers before extinguishing entirely.

Evidently, she'd done good.

Her training was never quite the same in the months that followed. She was almost always pitted against another person instead of the gym equipment she'd grown used to. She tried her hardest not to actually hurt any of them, but they didn't seem to care about inflicting pain. The fighting never ended until one opponent remained motionless on the padded floor.

One day, she entered the training room to find two figures kneeling in the center of the floor, hands bound behind their backs. They were people she'd seen on occasion passing through the facility's maze of halls. She was instructed to retrieve the pistol from the table pushed against the far wall and decide who would live. They didn't phrase it as killing one, but instead, saving one.

The first two times she found herself in this situation, she remained silent and looked between them in confusion. How could she possibly choose one life over the other? When she refused to make a choice, both strangers were killed and she went another week without a suppressant.

So when she walked into the room to again find two people kneeling before her once more, her stomach sunk to her shoes. She knew what she had to do, but that didn't make it any less gut-wrenching. Her blue eyes flicked between them and her lips parted upon recognizing them. The stranger on the left's bald head reflected the dim lighting of the concrete room. A pink scar sprawled across his cheek. The other was the wide-eyed doctor who gave her each dose of suppressant. All he'd ever done to her was take away her pain.

"Who will live?"

She didn't bother sparing a glance at the balcony to see the same man spectating as always. He watched curiously, interest and fascination sparkling in his dark eyes. Marina brushed her finger gently over the trigger while she met the bald-man's knowing gaze. She held the gun in both her hands and lifted it to his face, stepping forward to press it into his forehead. His expression faltered at the feel of the cold metal. He blinked a few times in an attempt to rally himself. The pride drained from his eyes, leaving behind nothing but desperation pleading her to reconsider. Seeing emotion in his stony face forced her mind into a frenzy of panic. There was something new there that she'd never seen before. It flicked across his features the instant he realized he was really going to die.

_Shoot._

Marina pulled the trigger. She flinched when blood sprayed her face and he collapsed to the floor. The doctor shouted in fear and surprise, trembling where he sat bound on his knees.

~~~

Time went on while HYDRA continued honing her training and gradually expanding collection of skills. She was beginning to feel like an entirely different person. Her own voice often startled her with how rarely she spoke. It was very strongly looked down upon to speak unless necessary. Unprofessional, Pierce had labeled it when she once tried to ask a question. Additionally, she always felt like she was going to lose her mind after sitting still for too long. Training kept her mind and body occupied, so when she was left to entertain herself, she felt lost.

There were a few occasions when doubt seized her thoughts; when she took a moment to wonder how she'd gotten here. Or, perhaps it remained festering all the while. Either way, the doubt ultimately passed without fail when the "energy" reminded her just how powerful an influencer pain could be. She often thought about her family and what they would think if they saw her now.

Would they be afraid?


	5. Chapter 5

One day, Marina realized she was being followed through the maze of halls on her way to the conference room for a briefing on her first field mission. She squared her shoulders and kept a calm exterior as she tuned into the steady footfalls behind her. They didn't speed to pass her intentionally slowed pace, but didn't slow to dodge suspicion. Had she not already consciously taken three right hand turns, she wouldn't have thought much of it.

Marina sucked in a breath and pushed it past her lips while she rallied herself. She scooped the pocket knife from where it was clipped onto her belt loop and flicked it out. She spun on her heel and dropped to her knees in one motion, eyes widening in the slightest when a fist flew overhead and crashed into the cement wall with a sickening pop. There was a pain-filled shout and she kicked a leg out to sweep the stranger off his feet. She positioned one balled fist and the blade in front of her face and shifted on her feet. Her expression softened when she looked down to see a HYDRA agent wriggling on the ground clutching his misshapen hand to his chest.

She jumped at the eerily slow applause from behind and turned to see the man who watched her training sessions leaned up against the doorframe of the conference room. A sly grin slipped across his lips while he clapped, pushing off the wall to slowly start toward her.

_A test?_

"Nicely done, Seven," he mused. Marina fought the frown that threatened to sink her brow. "Reflex and improvisation..." The man made a gesture with his hand like he was crossing something off of an invisible list. "Check." She remained silent and he scoffed to himself, nodding toward the conference room. "Come on, let's get this over with."

It _was_ a test, and it was only the first of many.

~~~

March 4th, 2012

Triskelion, S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Washington D.C.

Her first mission was simple; get in undetected and remove the specified information from the data cache. She wasn't given too many specifics, just that an otherwise low-profile HYDRA "asset" had wound up in a bit of trouble during their last mission and left a mess in their wake. She was tasked with cleaning it up.

Marina ran her hands along the jacket of her pant suit and sucked in a breath as she strode through the wide open lobby with a forged expression of confidence. In reality, her stomach was churning and her every inch was twitching with nerves. She was stopped a few times on her way through the building, each time being asked for her identification. Every time, she flashed them her issued S.H.I.E.L.D. badge and continued on.

Her gaze wandered the rooms marking each accessible door and window should she need to make a quick exit. She studied the people around her, none of them paying her much mind as she went about her business. It was almost too easy. With how much training had been put into preparation for field work, she expected a fight of some caliber. She navigated the hallways surprising smoothly, the blueprints of the Triskelion having practically been seared into her mind.

She paused in front of a reinforced door that she knew from her research to be a room of databanks. When she was sure nobod

y was around, she reached down and pulled a lock pick from her shoe. The lock opened with a satisfactory click and she hurried inside, silently shutting the door behind her. Marina spun on her heel and dragged a hand through her hair, a huff of air escaping her lips while her blue eyes scanned the computers and mechanical panels lining the walls. She moved to stand at a desk with a monitor, plopping herself into the black swivel chair. Biting her lip nervously, she peered around the edge of the screen and plugged a small device into the side of the monitor. It gave her about ten minutes or so to work without her meddling being traceable.

The screen flickered briefly and she feared for a moment that she'd done something wrong. It soon returned to normal, however, and she got to work sorting through files. The keyword she'd been given was Winter Soldier, so that's what she searched for. Everything was encrypted, of course, but part of her training was learning to get around encryption. And because of HYDRA's association with S.H.I.E.L.D., they knew how to operate inside without being detected.

Only one file popped up that had any mention of The Winter Soldier. She hesitated to delete it, curiosity bubbling in her chest. Her gaze dropped to the watch around her wrist displaying the eight minutes she had left. Marina's eyes narrowed as she double clicked the file. Aside from three blurry CCTV photos, it was nearly empty. She leaned in closer in an attempt to get a better look. Two of the pictures were nearly indecipherable, but the other was a bit clearer.

She was able to make out the dark-clad figure of a man. The pink pixels of his face meshed with what appeared to be brown hair falling just above his shoulders. The black blur of a pistol sat clenched in his right hand, the left hardly visible where it swung at his opposite side. The glint of metal was what caught her eye, but she couldn't figure out what she was looking at.

Marina peeked down at her watch to see five minutes remaining and sighed. She backed out of the file and deleted it with a few clicks, ensuring that it couldn't be recovered before plucking the device from the monitor and standing to her feet once more.

Most missions that followed were vaguely similar; recovering data, hacking, or ensuring something would never be seen again.

~~~

HYDRA training facility, Undisclosed location

Marina's ponytail swished across her shoulders as she bounced on her toes delivering blows to the punching bag hanging in front of her. Her chest heaved while she sucked in wind through her nose and pushed it past her lips. Stray hairs stuck to her sweat-slick forehead and heat overwhelmed her cheeks. Her unwrapped knuckles felt raw, but she ignored the faint stinging pain that followed every swing.

Finally, Marina took a single step away and huffed. She lowered her fists from where they'd been blocking her face and perched her hands on her hips. Her gaze unconsciously rose to the viewing gallery and she was surprised to see it empty. Her attention snapped to the metal door swinging open at the far end of the room. The dark-haired man who watched her train stood with his hands folded behind him, an armed agent halted at his side.

The man met Marina's eyes and nodded behind him before stepping out of the doorway as if to clear the way. She kept a confused frown from spilling across her face as she started toward him. Her gaze briefly caught on the guard's rifle and a lump formed in her throat while they guided her down the hall. The question of where they were going hung on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't force herself to ask. When they eventually turned into an empty concrete room and she'd managed enough courage, her lips parted to speak.

"W-" She was instantly cut off when the dark-haired man reached out and clamped a mask over her mouth. Her hands instinctually rose to the material covering the lower half of her face. The sickeningly strong smell of plastic gave her an instant headache. Her brow cinched in confusion and a bit of panic as she looked back up at him. His eyes were void of emotion, even as he latched onto her wrists and trapped them in metal cuffs behind her back.

"Three hundred fifty eight," he stated plainly as he finished locking her hands together. "I need you to remember that number."

Her frown only deepened when he gave her a small shove deeper into the room. He backed further away, toward the door, and plucked a pistol from where it was holstered on his hip. Marina's blue eyes widened in fear and she hardly had time to react before the deafening bang rang out. It echoed off the walls and into her ringing ears.

Her left leg buckled beneath her weight and a searing hot pain flooded her thigh. She tried to cry out, only now realizing that she wasn't wearing a mask. It was a muzzle meant to silence her screams. The unbearable burning crawled up her side and was so intense it took her breath away.

Marina coughed, her face screwed up in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head against the freezing concrete wall. The sound of the heavy door slamming shut hardly registered in her ears through the drumming of her heart. She gritted her teeth while a single tear slipped down her cheek and a sob racked her chest. The muzzle caught it before it spilled into the outside world. The blinding pain soon turned to the sharpest pins and needles sensation she'd ever felt. Her mind was spinning with fear and confusion as she struggled to slow her quickening breaths.

She finally brought herself to open her eyes once more. The two men were gone, leaving her alone in the little room with only a single light hanging from the ceiling. She mustered all her courage and peered down at her leg. A crimson splotch drenched her sweat pants. She'd hoped the bullet had cauterized the wound, but it didn't appear she was that lucky.

_What was she supposed to do?_

It had to be a test, but she hadn't been given any sort of direction on how to pass. So, she did all she could think to do. Marina couldn't seem to fully open her pain-narrowed eyes as they scanned the room for an escape. There wasn't much to the small room. It was merely four concrete walls and a reinforced metal door. Her hands were trapped behind her, limiting anything she could do to help her situation. She faintly recognized the feeling of cement beneath her trembling fingers, her entire body beginning to shake.

Her mind switched from escape to survival as she stared down at the hole torn through her thigh. Trying to stand wasn't an option, at least not until the disorienting wave of lightheadedness passed. Attempting to step over her arms to bring her hands in front of her only resulted in a jagged bolt of pain shooting up her side. She slumped back to the floor and another tear escaped her glassy eyes, this time out of frustration. Marina bit her lip and cringed at the taste of iron that swirled in her mouth. She lifted her good leg over the injured and winced when she crossed it overtop of her wound. It was the only way she could think to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. Another cry pushed past her lips, filling the muzzle with her own hot, suffocating breath.

Hours passed and she was still too afraid to remove pressure to check her wound. Dark red blood pooled on the floor. It soaked her pants and dried stiff on her skin. She shivered in the freezing air despite the sweat slipping past her brow. Her head felt heavy and rested against her shoulder while she fought to ignore the blinding pain that pulsed through her leg. It seeped into all of her muscles, leaving her suspended in a state of unrelenting misery.

She jumped when the door burst open and spilled light into the dim room. Marina squinted as the dark-haired man sauntered into the darkness. His empty gaze flicked from her puffy red eyes to her crimson-stained leg. He stepped closer and knelt before her. The action surprised her: lowering himself to her level when he usually lifted himself higher in her presence.

"Do you remember that number I told you earlier?" His tone was eerily calm. Marina sucked in a breath, unable to help the twitch in her chest. She'd been thinking of the three-digit number restlessly trying to understand its meaning. The muzzle silenced her attempt at an answer and the man pressed his lips into a thin line, forcing a sigh through his nose.

He leaned forward and shook his head lightly in disapproval. She couldn't help but whimper when he harshly shoved her good leg from where it had been applying pressure to the injury on the other. His thumb sunk into the bullet hole and she cried out, though it sounded like nothing more than a muffled yell from behind the mask. Instead, it bounced back into her skull and slammed around her pounding head.

The man sat back on his heels and huffed. "One more time. What was the number, seven?"

She choked the answer out once more, and was sure he heard it when his expression hardened. Her mind was sent into a frenzy of searching for a purpose. There was always a reason behind everything they did, an end goal, but this seemed a dead end.

"Really?" He grimaced and stood to his feet. "A few hours is all it takes?" She couldn't help the tear that fell down her cheek and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I think we can do better," he added before slipping back out the door.

Marina sat in silence for a few more hours, only the occasional unconscious sob interrupting. She thought over his words carefully to keep her mind sidetracked from the burning pain.

_A few hours is all it takes._

He asked for the answer, but was upset when she gave it to him. Her brow cinched in thought. She wore a muzzle to keep her silenced. She wasn't meant to speak, wasn't truly meant to answer. Realization swept over her. It was an interrogation; a training exercise. Don't answer. Don't break.

Marina ground her teeth and dragged herself back up the wall when she began to slip. Her wrists felt raw where the suffocatingly tight cuffs dug into her flesh.

Another hour passed.

Blood has a smell when there's enough of it. It was something she never realized, even with all the blood spilled in her lifetime. When it's left to fill the air, it sours. The dark pool wreaked with the vile stench of metal and death. She couldn't help but gag at the feeling of puke at the base of her throat. She tried to shallow her breaths, only making it worse in the long run as she instinctually sucked in deep breaths whenever her leg shifted in the slightest.

The door swung open and the man strode in once more, this time spinning a pocket knife between his fingers. His face scrunched up at the sight of her pale, sickly face and the smell that wafted past his nose. Regardless, he pressed deeper into the room and lowered himself a foot away from where she was slouched against the wall.

"Could you remind me what that number was?" His eyebrows furrowed in feigned confusion. Marina remained silent.

_Don't answer._

He waited a few seconds more and the smallest of grins threatened his lips. He nodded to himself and shrugged before reaching forward and dragging his blade across her cheek bone. Marina's face contorted in pain as warm blood rolled down her cheek, catching on the edge of the muzzle.

"I asked you a question," he growled.

_Don't break._

Marina choked back the tears and met his dark eyes, instantly regretting having done so when he rose a challenging brow. He swept the knife across her shoulder next and she gritted her teeth, eyes squeezing shut. His violence paused while he took in her shaking frame. The man huffed before tightening his fingers around the handle and driving the blade through her gut, slightly off-center so as to avoid any vital organs.

Marina's blue eyes snapped open as they spilled tears, a scream forcing itself from her burning lungs. A sharp pain flared in her side and she looked down at her abdomen with wide eyes.

"The number, seven..." He hummed hauntingly, tipping his head aside. He slowly twisted the blade and her exhausted body fought to distance herself from him. He latched onto her shoulder.

She cried the answer desperately, her voice cracking and muffled. She knew she wasn't supposed to speak, but panic flooded her heaving chest to force the number from her lips. His face scrunched in anger and he reached up to grab a fistful of her mess of brown hair. He cranked her head back and brought the blade to her throat, leaning in toward her. His hot breath sent a chill through her pain-ridden body.

"You get caught..." he began, his words hardly above a whisper and filled with the bite of anger. She flinched when he tapped a finger against her muzzle. "You keep your mouth shut. I don't care if they pick you apart limb from limb- you don't speak."

The man released his hold and shoved her back against the wall. She whimpered and her breath hitched in her throat. He rose to his feet and stared down at her a few seconds before spinning on his heel and leaving through the metal door. She jumped when it slammed shut behind him, leaving her alone in the small concrete cube of a panic room.

She was left there for another day before someone finally came to whisk her away.

Marina stumbled her way down the hall as they led her along. She tried to put as little weight as possible on her injured leg and side. The guards stopped in the entrance of the medical room, removed her cuffs, and motioned for her to enter. She pushed through the double doors and bit her lip to keep from crying as she made her way over to the gurney against the wall. The lengthy doctor hurried to her side and she leaned back, letting her head fall against the hard pillow.

His eyes raked over her before he snatched a collection of supplies from the cabinets. He fumbled with a pair of scissors in his hands and went to work snipping away her blood-saturated pant leg. The man grimaced at the sight of the wound. His eyes flicked back up to her pain-ridden face and softened in the slightest.

She flinched away when he reached toward her, but he paused when he noticed the uncertainty in her expression. Hesitantly, he reached out once more to remove the mask from her face. She'd almost forgotten she was wearing it. He studied the red marks where the material had been uncomfortably pressed against her tear-stained face. A streak of blood spilled from the cut across her cheek.

The doctor cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the stab wound in her abdomen before going back to work.


	6. Chapter 6

December 3rd, 2012

Winnipeg, Canada

Her seventh field mission was the first with a human target, and she tried to deny the coincidence of it.

Marina shivered in the freezing air and buried her face deeper into the scarf blocking her face from the harsh wind. She huffed and flexed her gloved fingers. Knee deep snow surrounded the target's house, and more rained down on her. Snow always made things more difficult; it left footprints. Luckily, the relentless wind swept away the majority of any tracks she left. But, it was better to be safe than sorry. The snow storm also worked with the darkness of the night sky to worsen the visibility to any potential witnesses.

She ensured there was always a backdrop of buildings behind her as she strolled along the sidewalk. She didn't want her silhouette against the moonlit sky advertising her presence. Marina walked straight past the house and up the front porch of the neighboring one before doubling back. She walked backwards, careful to place her boot perfectly in every previously made footprint. She backed all the way up to the target's door before reaching into her boot for her lock pick.

The target had only two security cameras keeping a watchful eye of the property, and she'd already disabled every camera in the neighborhood for a thirty minute period.

The snow-dusted door popped open with a soft click and she caught the handle before the wind blew it wide open. She swept the snow drift from the doorway with her boot so it wouldn't spill inside and melt into a puddle on the floor. She carefully stepped out of her shoes, leaving them outside for the same reason of not tracking snow or dirt inside. If the mud of her footprints dried on the hard wood floor, it would make her stealth pointless.

She was told not to alert anyone, and to leave no witnesses. The target was a non-combatant, and hadn't really done anything wrong aside from being in the wrong place at the wrong time. HYDRA didn't want a mess of questions left behind. "It was an accident," they told her when she was first given the assignment. "A tragic accident no one could have seen coming..."

Her eyes wandered the house as she padded along, socks silent against the floor. It was a fairly large home, but cozy nonetheless. It was a _home_. Someone lived there. Marina froze in place and blinked a few times. She looked around at the photos that hung from the walls, countless friendly faces smiling back at her.

A few magazines sat stacked on the coffee table in the living room, an empty mug sitting crooked on one of the coasters. The yellow couch bore the faintest of indentations where someone often sat. A soft white blanket was draped over the back. A potted plant attempted to hide the small hole in the drywall on the opposite end of the room. She pictured the stories the little room had to tell, the memories that had been made there. The thought made her feel sick. Her breath hitched at the sight of a tub of toy cars pushed into the corner. Colorful streaks of crayon spilled across the plastic lid.

Her eyes widened and her previously mission-oriented mind was sent into a frenzy. She stared at the box of toys in horror as she fumbled for a plan.

_One target, 38 years of age. No witnesses._

_A child?... No witnesses._

Marina turned to look up the stairs and an invisible voice screamed in her ears. It felt as though her own conscience was banging against her skull. She started up the flight of stairs despite her conflicting thoughts. Her gaze jumped from room to room.

A sigh pushed past her lips when turning into an open door toward the end of the hallway. The walls were painted a light green color and airplane wallpaper wrapped around the room's interior. There was an empty bed pushed up against the wall and toys were strewn across the floor. It was obvious that a child lived there, but they weren't home. And that was enough for her.

Marina's expression hardened once more and she sucked in a breath, making her way back down to the kitchen. She tiptoed along the expensive flooring and twisted each knob of the gas stove until she could see the waves of distortion in the air. Her face scrunched up at the nauseating fumes and she took a few steps away as she dove a hand into her pocket. Her fingers brushed the box of matches, from which she plucked one.

She pinched the small stick between her fingers and let out a breath before swiping it across the box and flicking it onto the countertop. She hurried back through the living room and slid into her boots in the doorway before pulling the door shut and falling back into her pre-made footprints. She'd hardly made it around the block before a deafening boom shook the ground and a plume of smoke erupted into the sky behind her. She brought a gloved finger up to her earpiece.

"цель устранена." [Target Eliminated.]

~~~

February 7th, 2013

San Antonio, Texas

Marina's curious eyes wandered the crowd of people spread throughout the sprawling room. Intricately carved quartz pillars lined the walls and a water fountain sat perfectly in the center of it all. The gaping front doors spilled moonlight onto the marble floor and laughter filled the air. It wasn't genuine laughter, but the kind rich people sputtered when discussing things nobody else cared about. Everyone around her sported fancy suits and glamorous dresses. It was a party after all.

The gentle strumming of a violin emerged from the corner, though nobody paid the musician much mind as they went about their business. She ran a hand over the fabric of her blue satin dress and huffed, eyes still scanning the crowd. The blond wig atop her head itched, but she fought the urge away.

She stood taller in her heels when she spotted her target, Jeffrey Davison, across the room. His gray hair was gelled straight back and he wore a pristinely pressed suit and tie. He looked a tad different from the pictures in his file. Time had pinched more wrinkles into his smiling face, but he was still easily recognizable. She tipped the wine she'd been offered to her lips and watched him over the rim of the glass.

He gradually made his way through the crowd, stopping every few feet to greet guests and exchange handshakes. His posture emitted confidence and superiority as he strolled carelessly along.

Marina's heart skipped when he caught her gaze, doing a double take to stare back for a second or two. Her expression remained unfaltering. She let out a breath through her nose when he redirected his path to her. He slowed to a stop in front of her, his gaze casually raking in her party attire before landing on her eyes.

"I was told you'd be here," he explained, managing the smallest of smiles. Marina rose a challenging brow and tried not to let his words leak worry into her mind. She forced her tone calm and careless.

"Were you?"

Jeff Davison sent her a curt nod and his eyes fell to the floor, the first sign of uncertainty he'd shown all night. He gently took the half-empty glass from her hands and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. She blinked a few times in confusion when he moved to stand at her side, forming a loop with his right arm.

"Do you mind if we take this upstairs?" Marina's narrowed eyes jumped to his face to see his thin lips still pulled into a kind smile. She reluctantly threaded her arm through his, the light touch only adding to her discomfort. She couldn't remember the last time she'd touched someone outside of a fight. It was her turn to nod now, and he drew in a shallow breath before leading her off toward the elegant staircase. A silence settled between them while she thought over her plan.

"You know..." She nearly flinched at the sound of his hushed voice when they started up the stairs. "I've made lots of enemies in my time. It was only a matter of time before one caught up with me."

He unhooked his arm from hers and turned to see the shred of confusion swimming through her otherwise cold expression. Davison chuckled lightly and pushed open a clean white door, stepping aside so she could enter. She hesitated, first searching for security cameras, but ultimately brushed past him into the neatly kept office. The instant he left her peripherals, she spun on her heel to face him once more. He closed the door softly and rubbed his hands together before gesturing loosely to the chair pulled up to the desk behind her.

"Please," he offered, "sit." Marina cocked a hip and folded her arms over her chest, wondering what kept her from finishing her mission right then and there. "Or not, it's up to you..." He trailed off and maneuvered around her to the opposite side of the desk to lower himself into a second seat. He leaned back and sighed, hands falling into his lap. Marina stiffened when they disappeared from view. He took note of her discomfort and slowly raised his hands again to prove they were empty. Offering another smile, he dropped his palms to the desk's face. "I, too, worked for HYDRA once upon a time."

Marina elevated her chin, tilting her head in feigned interest. Obviously she already knew his past affiliation with HYDRA. Why else did he think she was here? He'd been selling their intel to other organizations. She couldn't help but wonder what he was trying to do with his nice guy facade.

"What's your name?"

"Irrelevant," she answered bluntly. He nodded in understanding but pressed on regardless.

"How much are they paying you?" He rose a single brow and leaned forward in his seat allowing a smirk to splay across his lips. She could've laughed then. "Whatever it is, I can double it," he whispered. Marina smoothed her dress and moved closer, carefully lowering herself into the chair opposite of him. He visibly relaxed at what he assumed to be her consideration of his offer.

She ran her hands over her legs, a mannerism that would usually suggest she was nervous had it not been intentional. Her left hand slipped through the slit cut in her dress. Her fingers brushed over the blade strapped to her thigh and she met his smiling eyes. Marina lurched forward, driving the knife through the back of his hand to pin it to the wooden table.

His face contorted in pain. She sprung to her feet and hurried to his side, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his cry. Her other arm snaked over his chest to restrict his movements. Blood pooled around his trapped hand and began to drip to the expensive tile floor. She lowered her stance slightly where she stood behind him, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"I'm not here to cut a deal," She breathed.

She felt his every panicked breath quicken as he shook in her hold. Marina pulled her hand away from his mouth and dragged her fingers through his silver hair, grabbing a fist full. She paused a brief moment before smashing his face into the desk. He fell limp in the chair and she drew both hands away from his motionless form. She reached around him to pluck the knife from the desk. His bleeding hand slid off the table and he would have collapsed to the floor had she not latched onto both shoulders. She tightened her grip on the blade and plunged it through the center of his back. It slid smoothly between his ribs and she waited a few seconds before removing it and wiping the blood on the sleeve of his suit.

Marina pressed the knife back into place in its sheath on her thigh and backed a single step away from the scene. She rolled her shoulders and dismissed any guilt that pricked her mind as she started for the door. Her gaze raked over her hands and dress for any crimson specks. She leaned in toward the wooden door and pressed her ear against it, listening for any sign of movement on the other side.

When met with nothing but silence, she swiftly pulled the door open, stepped into the hall, and dragged it closed in one motion. Her tall heels clicked down the marble staircase, eyes locked onto the wide open doors in the entryway. Music and laughter flooded her ears as she navigated the crowd.

A deep breath forced its way from her tight chest when she finally stepped out into the cool night air. The softest breeze rustled her wig and sent a chill through her, but she couldn't find it in her to care. Even through the darkness she could see that the lawn's freshly mown lawn was a vibrant green. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the sidewalk.

_"статус миссии?" [Mission Status?]_

Marina flinched at the Russian voice that came through her earpiece. She forgot she'd been wearing one the whole time. Russian was but another skill she was taught in training. It was much easier to communicate without the worry of strangers overhearing.

"цель устранена." [Target Eliminated.]

_"немедленно сообщите об этом лично." [Report back in person immediately.]_

Marina made it back to base as quickly as possible still wearing an elegant gown and heels. She walked stone-faced through the dim halls catching the questioning gaze of all who passed. She couldn't remember the last time she saw anyone else from the training program trickling through the halls. As far as she knew, it was just her. The familiar man who always watched her train stood in the doorway. His eyes flitted over her dolled-up appearance before he took a single step closer. She dipped her face toward the concrete floor.

"Were you seen?" He questioned.

Marina remained silent, shoulders squared and resigned expression unwavering. He nodded and moved aside to grant her access to the lab. She huffed once he was out of earshot, reaching out to push through the double doors.

The slim doctor spun on his heel, eyes wide with fright. His bright white lab coat swished around him. To her surprise, his rigid stance almost instantly relaxed and a sigh pushed past his lips. She could never look at him the same after that one training session. The image of his petrified, blood sprinkled face was ingrained into her memory. She pictured the way he gawked up at her, the way it felt to have his life chained to her one instantaneous decision.

"Have a seat," he offered, gesturing loosely to the gurney in the center of the room before spinning around and sorting through a few drawers.

She hesitated and allowed her eyes to scan the room before slowly lowering herself onto the gurney. Despite being alone with the doctor, she stayed alert. She fiddled with the deep blue fabric of her dress to keep her hands occupied while she waited.

"How have you been feeling?" She flinched when the doctor interrupted the silence. A frown washed over her features and he plucked the plastic cap from the already filled syringe. "I mean, with the... are they lasting the full two weeks?"

Her eyes switched from the suppressant in his hands to his genuine face. She nodded slowly, brow still furrowed oddly. He flicked the plastic tube a few times, holding it up to the light to inspect the liquid a bit closer. He stepped beside her and she watched him carefully, holding her arm out to ease his access. She winced when he finally pressed the needle into the crook of her elbow. His face scrunched up at the sight of her pain and he set the syringe aside as soon as he was able, pressing his thumb into the dot of blood left on her arm.

Her shoulders slumped with relief at the icy feeling of the blue concoction rushing through her veins to snuff out the progressive burning sensation that had been clawing at her arms. She reached up to swipe the blond wig from her head, shaking her own brown waves free. He seemed to notice the released tension in her frame and the hint of a warm smile graced his lips.

"That good, huh?" He joked. She could hardly believe her ears. Her lips parted, feeling as though she should say something, but not quite knowing how to respond. Of all the times they had been in the lab together, he never engaged in conversation. "You look really nice, by the way," He added quietly as he rubbed circles of pressure into the injection site. Marina's eyes widened in surprise. Was this another test?

"What?" Was all she could manage.

"The dress?" He returned simply, finally backing away and releasing his hold on her arm while he nodded toward her. "It's nice." He slipped the rubber gloves from his hands and dropped them into the trashcan before leaning back against the cluttered counter.

"Listen, I never got the chance to thank you. Um- for what you did, I mean," He stuttered, folding his arms over his chest. He winced slightly at his words. Marina cocked her head aside and returned to fumbling with her dress. "I have a wife... Did you know that?"

Her breath lodged itself in her throat and she almost coughed in surprise. She abruptly slid off of the gurney and ignored the wave of lightheadedness that protested the sudden movement. Her heels clicked against the cement floor while she steadied herself. She felt sick, like she needed to hurl into the trash.

"And two little girls," the doctor continued. Marina met his eyes and was frightened by the kindness and gratitude staring back at her. She dropped her gaze to the floor and blinked a few times. He seemed to notice her agitated state and took a single step away, not out of fear, but rather to give her space. "Sorry- if I'm overstepping."

She let out a shaky breath before starting toward the exit, pushing past the double doors and letting them slam shut behind her.

Somehow, someone found out about the doctor's kindness, and it couldn't have been a week later that he wound up dead; replaced with another like he'd never existed to begin with.

He had a family...

Oddly enough, Marina was sad.


End file.
